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Her Franklins and Jim Farleys & the like

"They talk like avenging angels," Polly commented as she dished out salmon salad onto paper plates," but I can't see that they are any different from any other politicians - same personal ambitions to be served, same apple - polishing, same collusion and all the rest of the armamentarium of power politics." "Oh no, Polly, it isn't as bad as all that. It's just that if we weren't a little shrewd, shall we say, we wouldn't stay in power and therefore couldn't do any good."*[see previous page]* "Well, you don't fool us . B.Z, here's your coffee - I'll put it here beside the log where you can reach it." Later, B.Z sang to us, old French or German songs, as the sun went down behind Islesboro and the Camden Hills. Whenever I have come across songbooks on some neglected shelf, I have leafed through them hoping to find again the songs which was so beautiful in B.Z's contralto, as the glow faded from the sky and from the cold waters of Penobscot Bay